


In need of a sample

by orphan_account



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Dubious Consent, M/M, Milking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 22:04:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12993465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's time for the Joker's medical check-up and they only need one more sample to test. Unfortunately Joker isn't very forthcoming in providing it. Standard Arkham procedure is to call the Batman to help but he's not really going to go get a semen sample from the Joker...is he?





	In need of a sample

The Arkham tech in front of him looks like someone who would rather be anywhere but here. A new hire if his security badge and obvious nervousness was anything to go by.

“You needed me for something to do with the Joker?” Batman keeps his voice the usual curt growl. He’d learn to get used to the intimidating vigilante if he didn’t quit or die first. “Is he still contained?”

The Arkham tech flinches at being addressed, looking very much like he’s lost a bet.

“He was last time we checked.” He says with a flutter of fear in his voice and pauses to take a deep breath. “The thing is about the…Joker is his medi-medical checkup requires a…certain sample we’ve been unable to get and m-my superiors have ordered me to a-ask you if you could please get us a-a-a semen sample. Please.”

The lab tech gives him a desperately pleading look, obviously terrified by being forced to ask. He’s flinching back, ready to cover his head if the Batman lashes out.

“What issues have you been having?” Batman asks and the Arkham tech seems relieved the vigilante isn’t slamming his head against the table for asking.

Batman wonders what stories they’ve been feeding this kid about him.

“The thing is Mr…uh…Batman sir, is that he gets rather sparing with his…’donations’ once he knows they are required.” The Arkham tech looks like he wants to melt into the floor and disappear with embarrassment. “We haven’t been able to get a testable sample.”

“No cameras, no guards, no restraints.” Batman growls. The Arkham employee bites back the ‘are you sure’.

 “No-one comes near the cell and no-one mentions this again on pain of immediate dismissal without pay.” Batman adds.

“Yes, uh, Batman sir.” He stutters as Batman picks up the sample container. “He’s in isolation room…4…”

His sentence stutters to a close as Batman sweeps out of the room towards the isolation rooms before he can finish talking. The Arkham tech takes a second to steady his breathing and compose himself before informing the higher ups of Batman’s demands.

The four armed guards required by law to attend the Joker at all times try to avoid making eye-contact with the Batman as they pass him in the corridor. While investors were trying to keep the illegal activity within the asylum to a minimum there was a certain blind spot when it came to the activities of the bat. The cameras are hanging limp in their cradles by the time Batman reaches the door. He activates the scrambler in his suit just in case someone from Arkham has decided its worth it to get footage for blackmail.

The padded walls of the isolation cell deaden all sound as the Batman enters but the Joker still looks up from where he is sat leaning against the far wall. His eyes sparkle with malicious joy at the sight of his Bat.

“Hello Darling, has some naughty boy been misbehaving?” He asks as Batman strides across the cell. “If you want me to tell you’re going to have to beat the answers…”

Batman cuts off his next words by pressing their lips firmly together. Joker freezes as stiff as a statue with shock and Batman pulls away, inwardly cursing and hoping he hasn’t misjudged the situation, when all the tension fades from Joker’s body. He runs the tip of his tongue over his half open lips and Batman leans into a slow, lazy, sensuous kiss. His tongue curls around the Joker’s acid-scarred one, feeling the faint roughening of scar tissue as he explores the Joker’s mouth. The Joker moans and lets his mouth fall open wider so there is more room for the Batman to push his tongue inside. Despite their past history Batman finds he has no fear of the Joker biting it off; even the rogue’s arms seem to be limp and lifeless at his sides.

He strokes a hand down the Joker’s chest, the Arkham orange conspicuously different to his normal purple and green. It clings tightly to his skinny ribs and the Joker gasps a little at his touch. Batman sinks more force into his kissing, aiming to swallow up the Joker’s moans as the rogue lets his head hang back and the Batman ravishes his mouth. It’s clear from the glazed look in his eyes he’s not sure if this is real or a hallucination and Batman is happy to let him think what he wants; word of this is never going to leave this room.

The bulge between the Joker’s legs is already starting to show, it didn’t take much of Batman to get him excited. Batman trails his hand down the orange jumpsuit, running gentle circles on the Joker’s stomach just above the bulge, before he breaks the kiss and roughly cups it.

The Joker’s needy gasp is swallowed by the soundproofed padding.

“Ah! Bat!” He manages to moan before Batman begins pressing kisses to the sensitive underside of his jaw.

The Joker dissolves into incoherent moans and gasps of pleasure as Batman squeezes and his entire body shudders. Batman slowly strokes his hand along the Joker’s length and slips it through his fly. He’s nearly fully hard already and there is a bead of dampness on the plain white fabric of his underwear. The Joker’s hands stroke across his chest; Batman can barely feel anything through the armor plates as the Joker caresses the sculpted muscle.

Batman presses a kiss to the tender spot under the Joker’s ear and drags his teeth over the Joker’s earlobe as he frees the rogue’s erection. Just like him the Joker’s erection is tall, slender and entirely unashamed. The Joker makes a high keening at the sudden sensation of the Batman’s glove wrapped around him. He gasps for breath and his erection twitches in Batman’s hand. One of the Joker’s hands clutches at his shoulder for support and Batman brings his other hand up to bury it in the surprisingly soft green hair. He gives it a tug at the same time he strokes his hand over the Joker’s shaft and slicks him up with his own precum. The Joker’s sharp moan of arousal strikes Batman somewhere in his stomach; he is glad that the suit’s crotch plate has room for his half-hard erection and gives him some pressure to help relieve himself.

The Joker’s other hand strokes briefly down his face before clutching at his other shoulder for support. The Joker’s head hangs forwards, nearly resting on Batman’s shoulder himself as Batman finds the asynchronous rhythm that makes each of the Joker’s breaths stutter into moans and sharp gasps. He tugs at the Joker’s hair in the same rhythm as shivers of stimulation run down the Joker’s body. A fresh gush of precum signifies the prisoner won’t be able to hold on much longer and Batman leans in to rest his head against the Joker’s shoulder.

“Cum for me Joker.” He whispers the order in the Joker’s ear and with a strangled gasp the Joker is all too happy to oblige him.

Batman catches the first few drops in the container, continuing to pump the shaft through Joker’s shuddering overstimulation and shaking groans until he’s sure he’s milked every drop he can from him.

The Joker sits slumped against the wall with a dribble of saliva oozing from his lips. He seems completely lost in the haze of his afterglow as Batman tucks the sample in his belt. Still his eyes sparkle when Batman shows him how he spilled over his glove. He leans in to suck Batman’s fingers into his mouth and slowly licks them clean, savoring his own taste.

He moans with disappointment when Batman determines his glove to be clean and pulls his fingers free.

Without a word to the clown Batman leaves the cell, pushes the still warm container into the lab tech’s trembling hands and leaves. It’s going to take a long cold shower to wash the smell of the Joker off the suit.


End file.
